


Your Golden Waves

by justyoumeandthestars



Series: Chariot Series [1]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justyoumeandthestars/pseuds/justyoumeandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His dad would kill him. His mom would probably have a fucking heart attack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Golden Waves

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sarah for being my beta!

_This is so wrong_ , he thinks to himself. Of course it's fucking wrong. It's totally off-the-walls, fucked up wrong. His dad would kill him. His mom would probably have a fucking heart attack. And his sister, God, his sister. Can you imagine little Molly's reaction when she finds out nice Mr. Kinney – the one who gives her caramel apples on Halloween and bought her that awesome keyboard for her 11th birthday – happens to also give pretty fucking amazing head and if you give him a rimjob _just right_ , you can get him to squeal like a school girl.

He's lying under his blue plaid comforter, the sheets in knots around the knobs of his knees. He's on the phone with Mr. Kinney, whispering so Craig won't hear down the hall. “I want to be alone with you again,” Brian murmurs.

“I'm tired of staring at the ceiling in my room when I know you're three houses down downloading porn.” Justin whispers. 

Seventeen is a rough age. You want that independence from your parents, you want to fuck everything in sight, you want to be your own person. And yet, there are rules you must follow, certain things you still can't do, certain things you still need from your parents. Like shelter and food and them to cosign on your tuition bills next fall. 

And Justin tries not to think of the weekend he and Brian spent together three weeks ago when his parents and sister went out of town to see some musical in Philadelphia for Molly's birthday. When Craig and Jennifer never thought twice about leaving their son with Mr. Kinney.

“ _You'll have fun, he's single and he has a pool in his backyard. You'll love it, Justin._ ” Justin did love it. Loved fucking in Brian's silky black sheets and trading handjobs in the pool and trying new positions that the cheaply made porn Justin had watched previously never showed him. They fed each other Thai food naked and fucked slowly on the sofa. 

Brian Kinney was Justin's first – and only. It had happened before that weekend. Justin had went over to deliver the package that had been sent to the Taylor's on accident – 405 looking a lot like the 408 on the smudged postal stamp. He'd found the older man with his feet in the pool and a bottle of Beam in his hand. He could smell the alcohol from a few feet away, but that didn't stop him.

“Uh, Mr. Kinney? This box, it, uh, came for you. The addresses got screwed up, I think, and I just came here to drop it off.” Brian had stared at him the whole time he spoke, and said nothing. Just nodded and turned back to stare at his feet in the chlorinated water.

Justin had grown to view Brian as some sort of father figure over the years. Brian and Craig were golfing buddies. Drinking buddies. Brian had been the one to teach Justin how to drive stick-shift. He was 38 years old, had never been married, and had no children. He owned a huge ad-agency in the city and had bought the house down the street when Justin was seven.

But now, the man before him who he'd viewed as strong and independent – looked drunk and lonely. Justin remembered the nights when he would sit up in bed and could see Brian's lights on and watched him sitting in bed – reading, usually, a large novel or staring intently at his laptop. He'd been attracted to Brian since he was thirteen, but this man was his dad's best friend, and even at thirteen, he knew how fucked up that was. Brian spoke, then, “You can go home now, Justin.” Nodding while speaking the blond's name is what got him.

“Are you okay, Mr. Kinney? Would you like to talk?” Brian chuckled. 

“Go home, Taylor.” And Justin nodded, walking to the gate and lifting up on the handle. He heard splashing behind him as Brian climbed out of the pool, still wearing his dress shirt and pants, his tie loosened around his neck. The teen's mouth went dry as the older man walked toward him. “You like me, don't you, Justin?” 

Justin could feel the man's hardon pressed against his thigh. He remained silent. “It's okay. This is okay. It's okay to like me. It's okay to want to fuck me, Justin.” Justin's mouth gaped and he looked down. “It's okay to be queer. Look at me. Are you listening?” Justin nodded. “I'm going to kiss you, okay?” Justin just closed his eyes and parted his lips, letting Mr. Kinney do what he'd wanted. 

That had been two months ago. Justin successfully had avoided the brunette for a month and a half before his parents dropped the ball of his “babysitter” for the weekend. 

When his parents left that Thursday afternoon, Justin had stared at his feet in the entryway for a good hour before Brian talked to him, “If you're going to be weird, I can just let you go home. Just promise you won't throw a party or some stupid shit.” He said quietly. He was standing half a foot from Justin's body, his face only about two inches. “But I really, really don't want that.”

“It's wrong for you to touch me.” The walking talking PSA.

“Says who? Justin, if you don't want this, we don't have to do it. Ever again. I will never force you into something you don't want.” Justin swallows and looks up into hazel eyes. “Do you want me?”

“Yes.” And Brian nods and steps away, back into the kitchen where he digs out the Thai delivery menu. “Make sure I'm not allergic to anything.” 

“I've known you since you were seven. I'm not out to rush you to the hospital this weekend, okay?” Justin wrings the strap of his duffel bag around his hands. The hands that still shake from the incident last spring. “Please, sit down. Go into the living room or go put your stuff into the bedroom. You're making me nervous and it's fucking ridiculous.” Justin wanted to laugh. He was making a 38 year old nervous in his own home. He walked down the hall and to the left, arriving in the living room of Brian's prodigious house. 

He sat on the couch and picked at the sleeves of his shirt. He was trying not to think of Brian pinning his face down on the hot concrete next to the pool. The feeling of his jeans and briefs sliding down his ass and settling around his ankles while Mr. Kinney panted in his ear. The burnstretchtoofuckingfull feeling of a throbbing cock in his virgin ass. The taste of Mr. Kinney's come as he jerked off onto his face. The way Brian leaned down and whispered, “Go home, Justin. Your mom just called and asked where you are.” And how he'd just stood up and nodded, allowing Mr. Kinney to wipe off his face with a pool towel while he slipped on his pants. The way his hands shook when he reached to unlock the gate and walked down the cobblestone back home. 

Back in his bed with the phone to his ear, Justin thinks about how much easier it would have been if he'd just gone home that Thursday night. He listens to Brian breathing, the wispy sound of his deviated septum and his eyes begin to droop and his shoulders slump. “Justin,” the older man whispers, “Go to sleep. I'll see you tomorrow when I come over for dinner, okay? We'll work this out. You'll see.”

And Justin simply mumbles, “Okay,” and rolls over with his phone next to his ear and listens to Brian breathe a little more before falling asleep. Brian smiles when he hears light whistling snores and closes his phone, looking over three houses down and wondering what in the fuck he's gotten himself into.


End file.
